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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021292">let ev'ry heart prepare him room</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl'>TolkienGirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [313]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Christmas Dinner, Fluff? Did I write fluff?, Frog is a Baby, Gen, Mithrim Christmas, a somewhat ill-adjusted baby, this is a tribute to a scene in MWT's Return of the Thief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:16:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a hush when Russandol enters the hall. In an instant, the people change.</p><p>It hurts Frog’s heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amlach &amp; Arien, Amlach &amp; Beren Erchamion, Amlach &amp; Maedhros | Maitimo, Amlach (Tolkien) &amp; Original Female Character(s), Arien &amp; Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno &amp; Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros | Maitimo &amp; Maglor | Makalaurë</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [313]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1300685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let ev'ry heart prepare him room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even Estrela fails him.</p><p>Frog squirms, but she doesn’t let go. She just pours more and more of the water over his head and shoulders. The tub is cramped. He is going to be all splintery from it, all <em>covered</em> in tigs. When he opens his mouth to scold—because he can scold now, just as Sticks does—the water runs inside and fills it up.</p><p>He chokes and spits and Estrela, who is being <em>very</em> <em>bad</em>, says,</p><p>“Oh, darling, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No!” he shouts. “No, no! Cruel Belle! <em>Cruel</em>!”</p><p>He calls her Belle to poke her. She won’t let herself be poked, though. She just wipes her arm over her face, because the water has run on her too, and says, “Frog, Russandol let me wash his hair.”</p><p>This is…unexpected.</p><p>Even Sticks, wrapped in a blanket after <em>her</em> bath and watching Frog’s agonies in smug and maddening silence, says, “<em>Wut</em>?”</p><p>“Yes,” says Estrela. “He let me wash his hair, and he did not make a single growl.”</p><p>“Because he was hiding,” says Sticks.</p><p>“No, because he knew I would not hurt him. I am not hurting you, Frog-boy. I am making you clean and nice for dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”</p><p>“Yes.” The water in the tub is getting cold. Frog looks down at his bare knees, like two apples bobbing. Two poor apples.</p><p>“Will you sit still while I finish? Like Russandol?”</p><p>“Hoho,” says Sticks. “She’s got you now.”</p><p>Frog hisses at her.</p><p>“Sticks,” says Estrela, in the Voice.</p><p>Sticks recoils.</p><p>The Voice trots out very rarely.</p><p>Like Russandol, Frog tips his head back and shuts his eyes, and imagines that the water that falls over him is a big spot of rain coming from the sky all at once. It isn’t so bad like that. The sharp, soap froths around him. After a moment, Estrela tells him to stand up, so she can splash the bubbles away. Then she says,</p><p>“There you are, baby,” and wraps him in another blanket.</p><p>“Not a baby,” he says, sitting beside Sticks. They point their toes out together and examine them side by side. Sticks’ are still longer than his.</p><p>“Not a baby,” Estrela agrees. “Ah, <em>que</em> <em>sono</em>. All right, let’s get you both dressed.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are a prince,” Beren says, lifting Frog up by his hands and swinging him back and forth. Beren emptied the tub for Estrela and admired Sticks’ tight braids and Frog’s clean shirt. Now he is playing, until dinner is ready. “A prince—riding—the horse—of the wind—”</p><p>Frog giggles. The air smells like crackling ham and sweet things. More tables and benches have been brought into the hall, for everyone will eat together, today. When Beren puts him down, Frog says, proudly,</p><p>“A clean prince.”</p><p>“Yes,” says Beren, patting his head like Frog pats the kittens.</p><p> </p><p>There is a hush when Russandol enters the hall. In an instant, the people change.</p><p>It hurts Frog’s heart.</p><p>Russandol is walking, not quite by himself. He has one arm around Celegorm’s shoulders, and Fingon is keeping close to his other side. A cheer goes up, then, and Frog covers his ears. He can see how it hurts Russandol, too: Russandol with trousers billowing around his legs and a shirt buttoned high. Russandol with boots—big tall boots—on his feet. Russandol with some of his hair missing and the rest fluffed.</p><p>“What’s the matter?” Sticks demands, brushing Frog’s hand with her fingers. “Frog—”</p><p>He can hear her through his fingers. He says,</p><p>“<em>He’s gone</em>,” but he doesn’t know if Sticks hears <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He’s pinched at dinner. Smashed between Estrela and Little Red. Frog kicks Little Red in the shin, just to <em>see</em>, and Little Red says,</p><p>“Stop it, Frog,” in his squeaking voice, that wobbles between man and boy.</p><p>“<em>You</em>,” growls Frog, but he doesn’t even know why he’s <em>put out</em>. He wants to cuddle against Estrela’s softness and put his arms around her neck. He wants to feel her hum. He wants to sit by Russandol, and ask him about horses.</p><p>But he <em>said</em> he wasn’t a baby, and Beren said he was a prince, and Russandol is all the other way at the end of the table, smashed between Fingon and Maglor.</p><p>Frog finishes a mouthful of ham—very tender, very nice—and drops down out of sight. Estrela was talking to Wachiwi, who is on her other side, and she missed him.</p><p> </p><p>Underneath is another world. Frog opens his eyes very wide, and sniffs. It smells like ham and veggie-tables, and cake, and also mud and straw. Huan is not here; he rather thought Huan <em>would</em> be here, but it would be hard to make Huan fit. So large. So fast. Not like a baby at all.</p><p>Estrela’s feet are tight against each other. Sticks’ legs dangle beyond Wachiwi. There are boots and boots and more boots, and fallen piece of bread—with a boot-mark stamped upon it. Frog wrinkles his nose and creeps by.</p><p>Celegorm’s boots are thrust out so far he must be careful in getting over them. He knows it’s Celegorm because Huan is behind the chair, on the outside, and Celegorm’s hand comes down to toss bits of ham backwards.</p><p>Frog smiles at Huan, and Huan pants obligingly, and then Frog must keep on, before he is kicked.</p><p>(He remembers how it was to move among the rafters, his heart climbing out of his ears with its thumps. Estrela was Belle, then, and Belle was very frightened. Frog knows what he did was bad—not because it was naughty, but because he could have been <em>catched</em>. Once catched, there is nothing for it. <em>You are gone.</em>)</p><p>(<em>He’s gone.</em>)</p><p>“Frog—” he hears Estrela say, back down the table. He moves faster. Russandol’s boots are ten pairs of twitching legs away. Some boots stink of polish. Some stink of horse. Some feet are wearing moccasins. There are the feet of goldy Finrod. There are the feet of Beren. Frog could poke them, but then Beren would look down and get him.</p><p>“Eh, what’s that?” asks one pair of boots, and it’s <em>Gwindor</em>. How did he get boots? Never had them <em>there</em>. Frog scuttles sideways, and—</p><p>“Ow, crikey,” says the red-faced one. Caranthir. Frog does not like him because he is cross. “You kicked me, Curufin!”</p><p>“I didn’t.” The cold, snappy voice. Lost its squeaks but isn’t the better for it. Frog sticks his tongue out. His hand mashes on a bit of cold potato.</p><p>“Have you seen the little one?” Gwindor’s voice goes, behind him.</p><p>Not much time now—not much time—</p><p>Russandol’s right foot is twitching in its boot. Russandol has big feet. As big as Frog’s arm, maybe. If Frog had all the time and comfort in the world, he could put his arm next to Russandol’s foot and see, but now he is all flustered. He stops just short of Russandol’s toes—and Fingon’s smaller toes—and Maglor’s boots that are splitting along the soles, one crossed over the other.</p><p>Frog sits back on his heels and wipes the potato on his trousers.</p><p>A clatter, up above. Fingon says, “I can—”</p><p>“No, it’s all right,” Russandol says, his voice scraping happy—happy. “It wouldn’t do for everyone to see you cutting up my food. The pieces are small enough. I can manage.”</p><p><em>Twitch</em>, <em>twitch</em>, goes Russandol’s right foot. <em>Twitch</em>, <em>twitch</em>.</p><p>The left one is no better. It sticks out, held straight, because it’s the one that hurts him.</p><p>Frog waves his hand over it. He wishes he could give it a small pat.</p><p>A bench scraping back. “I’m sorry—”</p><p>Estrela. Her quick steps. Going away from the table, slap-slap-slap. He is safe. Frog grins to himself, clutching his ankles. Only Huan knows.</p><p>“You’ve not touched your soda bread, Maitimo,” Maglor says.</p><p>“Oh, dear.” Russandol. <em>Twitch</em>, <em>twitch</em>. “Nice crust, that. Caranthir should be proud of himself.”</p><p>“Finrod said he took all the oranges,” Fingon says, laughing.</p><p>Frog shakes his head. He found an orange this morning, under the tree.</p><p><em>For you</em>, Estrela said.</p><p>It was like eating the sun. He liked it very well.  </p><p>“Is it too loud?” That’s Maglor.</p><p>“Yes, Maitimo—” that’s Fingon—“Say the word and we’ll carry you back.”</p><p>“I’m all right.”</p><p>“No,” says Frog, and then covers his mouth. He hadn’t meant to peep. The voices go on in their rude blur, all down the table, but Russandol’s boot stops twitching.</p><p>He <em>knows</em>.</p><p>“I think Estrela went looking for Frog,” Russandol says. “Fingon, can you tell her I saw him? She may be worried.”</p><p>“She just went down the hall,” says Fingon. His boots go up and away. “I’ll tell her.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Frog looks at the empty space on the bench. He considers. It isn’t <em>catched</em> if you catch yourself. He sneaks his head out, and Russandol is looking down at him, as if he’s been waiting.</p><p>“Hello, <em>cano</em>. Fancy meeting you here.”</p><p>Maglor says, “Oh, good Lord—”</p><p>“Maglor. Leave him be. Will you come up and sit, Frog?”</p><p>“Yes,” says Frog. He is tired of the close air and the potatoes and being lonely together with Huan, with Russandol’s boots.</p><p>The shininess in Russandol’s eyes means <em>smiling</em>, <em>trying</em>, <em>falling asleep</em>. He has a long cloth wrapped around the arm with no hand, holding it against his belly. The cloth is tied behind his neck. His hair is clean, just as Estrela said, and it is a little curly.</p><p>Frog is suddenly shy. He puts his head down on the table, his left ear to the wood. He looks at Russandol from one eye. Is that how Estrela sees him?</p><p>“Are you tired?” Russandol murmurs, in a voice just for them. “So am I.”</p><p>Frog feels the sadness opening up in front of them, slithering along the crowded table between the plates the elbows and the laughing mouths.</p><p>There isn’t a bad one, to stop them there. There isn’t the Mountain. But there is still so much that Frog needs to remember, so he can be sure that Russandol won’t forget himself.</p><p>“Help me eat my bread?” Russandol asks, still quiet. There is ham on his plate.</p><p>Frog helps.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>que sono = "what tiredness/I'm tired"</p></blockquote></div></div>
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